


kiss me (on this cold december night)

by indecisively_yours



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Secret Santa, Captain Swan Secret Santa 2017, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecisively_yours/pseuds/indecisively_yours
Summary: Maybe asking your best friend to pretend to be your boyfriend as you make a trip back home isn’t the smartest idea Emma’s had in a while. then again, how smart is Killian for actually saying yes?





	kiss me (on this cold december night)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laschatzi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laschatzi/gifts).



“I need your help.” **  
**

If you were to ask Emma the four little words that would change her world, she never thought those would be it. She wasn’t a romantic, not by any means, but a part of her always thought those words would be “Will you marry me?”

(At one point in time, she almost thought those words would be “You’re home now, Emma,” but that wasn’t the case. That’s neither here nor there right now.)

“You need my help?”

She looks into the blue eyes of her neighbor, one Killian Jones, sitting at the diner booth already sipping at his cup of coffee, sporting a confused look on his face.  

Emma slips off her jacket as she slips into the booth across from him, nodding. Seconds after her butt touches the cushion, there’s a cup of hot cocoa placed in front of her and a wink from the waitress as she walks away.

“My brother and his soon-to-be wife are hosting Christmas this year up in Maine and I’m heading up,” she tells him, picking up the cup to take a slow sip. “Something about big news they want to share and they want me up there for the holidays.”

“I’m failing to see how you need my help, love,” he tells her. “I’ve yet to have the honor of meeting them, nor am I a psychic to know what this big news is.”

“No,” Emma says. She sets her cup down as she sends him a glare. “Let me finish.”

He nods for her to continue, folding his hands atop the table.

“They’re hosting Christmas and I know she’s going to use this as an opportunity to set me up with someone. Especially since they’ve made sure everyone they’re close with stays in town for this big news.”

“I’m still failing to see how you need my help with this, Swan….”

“She’s going to try to set me up with someone,” she spells out. “And…”

“And…?”

Emma sighs. So much for hoping he’d get the hint. “Will you come with me to Maine and pretend to be my boyfriend so she doesn’t set me up with someone?”

He laughs. Outright laughs, almost infectious if it wasn’t for the fact that she was freaking out about this.

There’s a slim chance she’s jumping the gun with all of this, that her nerves about going back to a place she left in her rear view mirror years ago are getting the best of her, but she’d rather not take that chance.

She’s about to tell him to forget it, that it was a stupid idea, that she’ll manage on her own and shouldn’t have tried to rope him into this as some type of buffer for her issues of the past.

She’s about to open her mouth, then he says, “Swan, I’d love to.”

Okay, so it turns out those are the four little words that truly solidify the start of her life changing trip. Then again, it’s not something she’d realize until she’s looking back at this.

///

If you were to ask her if Killian would be her go-to person when they first met, she’d laugh at you. Well, first she’d stare at you as if you had two heads, then she’d laugh at you.

When they first met, things were never like this between them. Hate would be too strong of a word but dislike? Oh, Emma disliked her neighbor Killian Jones immensely. He had no set schedule, no sense of time, and there was just an air about him that always seemed to rub her the wrong way.

She made it a habit of avoiding him at all costs, and the plethora of people he had around.

(There were usually only ever two, but that’s two more than Emma had around, barring David and Mary Margaret and their visits.)

Except fate had decided other things for her one night.

She was holding way too much take out for one person and he was standing in front of his door, frustrated beyond all belief because he had locked himself out of his apartment.

“Don’t bother calling this in,” she had told him. “You won’t get anyone at this hour. Anyone who cares, that is.”

She doesn’t know why she felt compelled to talk to him then, why she felt the need to tell him information he must have already known, being her neighbor for months now, and yet, she felt compelled to at least warn him.

Maybe it was the crappy night she had; maybe it was the skip who got away, leaving her with a throbbing bump on the back of her head that she just had to cure with takeout because there was no way she could afford a trip to the emergency room right now.

“Well that’d be just my luck,” he had muttered. “My mates are sure to get a good laugh out of this.”

She had handed him her bag of takeout before disappearing into her own apartment, coming back out moments later with a small kit in hand. A crouch, some tools, a few jiggles here, and his door had been opened in no time.

“You’re bloody brilliant, love,” he had whispered in awe.

“It comes with the turf,” she had told him.

He had handed her the bag back before she turned back to her own door. It had only taken her a few seconds to decide that she wasn’t going to ignore that little voice in her head, urging her forward.

That could have been a little voice urging her to seek medical attention, but she wasn’t about to distinguish them now.

“I’ve got enough food for two,” she had turned back and announced. “You a fan of General Tso’s and lo mein?”

“Actually…I think I’m more of a fan of getting that cut above your eye checked out. I’ve got a kit in here, love. Would you allow me…?”

///

Maybe those were the four words that started it all. She’s unsure why her thoughts are on the first night they actually started talking instead of on the road and the almost two hour drive up to Maine from Boston.

She’s thankful the ride isn’t longer than that. She’s already having a hard enough time trying to think of something to say—which is hard considering they never run out of things to talk about when they’re together.

(Which now happens more often than they’re apart, but that’s a topic for another time.)

“Is there anything I should know before we arrive, Swan?” Killian asks. She glances over at him briefly, seeing him rub the juncture where his prosthetic and arm meet.

Is that nervousness she’s noticing or something else?

She planned on telling him exactly why she hadn’t been back to Maine in such a long time or giving him the rundown on just how nosy everyone could be in the small town.

Instead, she just shakes her head. “Just…be prepared for my brother to go into overly protective brother mode,” she tells him. “It’s the first time I bring anyone home since…well, since a long while.”

It’s better this way, she keeps reminding herself, knowing this will be the only way to truly avoid anyone bringing up why she left all those years ago.

“We’ll stick as close to the truth as possible,” she tells him. “Nothing to worry about then, right?”

///

While the rest of the drive should be spent going over any information he should know about her, Emma realizes it’s a moot point. Killian already knows more about her than any of her other friends.

(Hell, if she’s honest, he’s pretty much her only friend outside of work, and even then, she’s only hung out with them a handful of times.)

It’s a somber feeling when they pull up to her brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law’s place, streets quiet around them.

“Would you like me to accompany you or—”

“I didn’t bring you all this way to stay in the car, Jones. Come on, let’s go. I promise, none of them bite,” she tells him.

She hears a faint mumbling coming from him as he steps out of the bug, but she can’t quite make it out.

With their bags in hand soon after, they head up the stairs to the loft. She knocks on the door, glancing behind her as she shoots Killian a sympathetic smile.

Her attention swings back to the door opening, revealing an enthusiastic Mary Margaret with a smile on her face.

“Emma!”

Arms swing around her almost instantly, enveloping her in a warm embrace. David appears behind the woman soon after, the look on his face a cross between happiness at seeing his sister and confusion at the man she’s brought with her, the day before Christmas Eve.

“It’s so good to see you, both of you,” Emma says. “Do you mind if we take this reunion inside? I’m still kind of cold.”

David ushers them inside, grabbing the bags in Emma’s hand to place them by the foot of the stairs.

“I should probably introduce you guys. This is—,”

“Killian Jones,” he says, extending his hand out to Mary Margaret. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“We’re just finally glad to meet you,” she says, smile still on her face as David forces one on his. “Emma mentions you all the time, we were starting to wonder if we’d actually ever meet this mysterious man.”

“Has she, now?” he asks. She doesn’t need to turn around to see the raised brow on his face, or to look in a mirror to see the redness growing in her cheeks.

“David, why don’t you help Killian put their bags upstairs,” Mary Margaret instructs. “Emma and I are going to start catching up.”

She shoots Killian an apologetic look, knowing her brother will definitely seize the opportunity to ask him any and all questions that come to mind.

“I’m so glad you’ve finally come back to town,” Mary Margaret says. Emma offers her a tight-lipped smile as she sits down at the breakfast bar, watching as she walks around the area. “I know a lot of people are going to be happy to see you.”

“I don’t know,” she says, looking down at the placemat in front of her. “I didn’t exactly leave on the best terms with a lot of people. And then after it all, I didn’t really make an effort to come back.”

Mary Margaret reaches across the counter, resting her hand on Emma’s arm. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I always told you—no one blames you for what happened all those years ago. He was a jerk, and what he did was unforgivable. But none of it was your fault.”

She lets out a slow breath, nodding. “Can we just avoid talking about that tonight?” she asks. “Killian doesn’t know and—”

“Killian doesn’t know what, love?” she hears from the foot of the stairs behind her.

Her arm tenses as she glances back over at him, but Mary Margaret seems to take over the situation just as quickly. “About the best breakfast and lasagna in town. Which you’ll have to try before you both leave.”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea,” he says, taking a seat down beside her. “If that’s all right with you, Swan.”

“Of course,” she says with a nod, and before she even realizes what she’s doing she leans over and presses a kiss dangerously close to his lips. She immediately turns her attention back to Mary Margaret. “So, about that dinner you said would be waiting for us…”

///

Dinner, along with the rest of the night, pass by in a blur. Emma knows she should be paying attention to the questions David and Mary Margaret are asking Killian—she should at least be attentive to the third degree they’re giving him if she’s gonna have his back—but instead her mind dwells on the the town and the reasons she never came back.

She doesn’t really start paying attention to what Killian’s saying until she’s upstairs, unpacking her pajamas from her bag.

“Swan,” he says, arm on hers snapping her out of her trance. She slowly turns to look at him, brows furrowed. “Where have you been all night?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry. Mind’s just on a million things at once. What did you ask?”

He takes a step closer, voice barely above a whisper as he asks, “I asked what side of the bed you’d prefer…”

Bed. Oh. Right. Because they’ll be sleeping together.

She really should have thought about what it’d all entail when she asked him to pretend to be her boyfriend on this trip. Like sharing a bed and having to hold hands and…oh God, they’d probably have to kiss at some point in front of everyone to sell it, right?

“Swan…”

“Whatever side’s fine,” she quickly says, grabbing her bag. “I…need to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I’ll be back.”

It’s a lame excuse but it’s the one she leaves him with as she all but flies down the stairs to hide in the bathroom and compose herself.

Of course it’s just her luck that when she heads back upstairs, she finds him having settled in bed, the side she usually sleeps on left open for her.

(If she wakes up the next morning wrapped around him, it’s only because they have to sell this, not because of anything else.)

///

To say she spends Christmas Eve morning dreading the small stroll around town would be oversimplifying how she feels. Dread would be an easy emotion for her to deal with today. Instead, she feels like she’s walking around in a nightmare, paranoid that she’ll spot someone who’ll be itching to bring up her past at any turn.

Granny’s the only one that catches her off guard, enveloping her in a hug once they step foot into the diner. It takes her back so much that David’s the one who ends up introducing Killian to her, albeit begrudgingly.

She all but runs out of the diner once they’re done with breakfast, Mary Margaret reminding Granny to bring her lasagna tonight to Christmas Eve dinner before following Emma out. She loops her arm through hers as they head back to the loft, Killian and David following close behind.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret says. She offers her a warm smile. “You don’t have to think about that anymore. He’s long gone. His dad might own most of this town but I promise you, he hasn’t stepped foot back here since he left. No one cares about that anymore, either.”

Those words should be comforting to hear, and yet….

Emma glances back at Killian, instead finding comfort in the small smile he gives her.

///

It’s like all her fears come true the moment guests start pouring into David and Mary Margaret’s place. While they all express their excitement over the gathering, all bringing something to contribute to the potluck dinner, they all can’t help but notice the little sister come back to town after so many years.

They don’t bring it up directly, but they do make hints at it. Bless Killian for all of this, she thinks, watching as he seamlessly falls into the role of boyfriend and helps steer one too many conversations away from topics of the past.

She’s fine, really, up until Mary Margaret and David ask everyone to gather around so they can make their announcement.

“We’re pregnant!” Mary Margaret exclaims, smile on her face mirroring the one on David’s face.

“We just wanted to thank you all for being here while we shared this news, since you all aren’t just friends, but you’re family,” David continues.

The rest falls into a blur as the ringing in Emma’s ears begins. She remembers pushing past a group of people before she finds herself outside, the cold winter air a refreshing slap to the face. She’s not too sure how long she’s standing alone outside before she feels a familiar weight on her arm, before a coat gets thrown over her shoulders.

“You okay?” Killian asks.

She wants to nod and say yes, head back upstairs, and pretend she hadn’t just run outside because the news of her brother having a baby brought her back to a horrible place. She wants to pretend that everything’s okay, but instead finds herself shaking her head, tugging the coat tighter around her.

“I asked you here because I was afraid I’d see my ex,” she admits. “Which, I know, not the best reason to ask you to fake a relationship with me, but if you haven’t noticed by now, I haven’t been back here in years. He…”

Killian shakes his head. “Swan, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships in the past. I get the wounds those can leave you.”

“Not many of them send you to juvie and disappear without a trace,” she mutters. His eyebrows shoot up just as she shakes her head. “You mind if we just get out of here for a while, instead?”

///

They end up by the docks, sides pressed against one another as they stare out at the reflection of the moon on the water. The air’s bitter enough that she knows there’ll be snow soon, but they’ll worry about that later.

“I have to ask, love, why me?”

She glances over at him with furrowed brows. Is he asking her why he trusted her with all of this information about her past or….?

“Why did you ask me to come here with you and pretend when you could have just…asked someone else?”

Emma crosses her arms, holding back the chill that runs up her spine at the sudden gust of wind. “Because you’re my friend,” she tells him.

“Oh, come now, Swan, you have plenty of friends,” he retorts.

A quick shake of her head shoots that down. “You’re the only one I’d trust with this. Bringing you back here, helping me, telling you about my past…I don’t feel like you’re going to stop being my friend now that you know how fucked up my life has been,” she says.

“Hey.” He reaches out for her hand, pulling it away from her chest. Lacing their fingers together, he says, “I’d never stop being your friend, love. I’ll always be here for you. Even when you ask me to do silly things like pretend to be your boyfriend to deflect people’s inquiries into your past.”

She can’t help but roll her eyes at the small smirk that begins to form on Killian’s face. “We can stop that,” she says. “Just head back there and tell them the truth.”

“Now, I never said we should do that,” Killian tells her. “This could be good practice for when we head back home to Boston.”

“Practice?” she repeats with a raise of her brow. “For what?”

“An actual date. Unless I’ve been misreading the signals all along,” he’s quick to say, prosthetic reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “You know, I must have been. There probably weren’t any signals at all. I apologize, love, I shouldn’t have assumed that you felt for me the way I’ve felt for you all this time and—”

Emma leans over then, pressing her lips against his to stop the words from continuing to spill out of his mouth. They’re warm against hers, a stark contrast to the winter chill around them.

“Anyone ever tell you that you can talk too much, Jones?” she says, slowly pulling away from him.

He looks surprised, all but speechless as he opens his eyes, shakes his head, and he realizes what she’s just done.

“An actual date, huh?” she says, smile on her face. “That can be arranged.”

///

So maybe those four words might be the starting point of a new chapter in her life—one she’s very eager to see how it goes. First, they just have to get through Christmas.


End file.
